


heated

by cornunut



Series: bad things happen bingo [1]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Heat Stroke, Light Angst, M/M, based off of irl events but more gay than anything that will ever happen to me, this is 1000x funnier if you imagine the band director is the prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornunut/pseuds/cornunut
Summary: The last thing Tybalt saw before blacking out was Mercutio’s worried face standing out amongst the first notes of the song.or, the tycutio marching band au no one asked for nor wanted.
Relationships: Mercutio/Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet)
Series: bad things happen bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658365
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	heated

**Author's Note:**

> trying to describe heat stroke as it happened to you through the perspective of another character and also making it gay is hard. enjoy.
> 
> for the anon on tumblr.

Really, Tybalt should have seen it coming.

So what if he had a history of fainting when he overheated? He was fine, and here, in the middle of the last band practise before their final show of the season, was not a place where he could back out. They needed this routine to be  _ perfect, _ and goddammit he would try.

Unlike someone else he knew.

“Escalus! You’re out of step!”

Ah, yes. Mercutio Escalus, the bane of his existence, grinned at the band director as he fixed his mistake.

“Sorry, sir! Got carried away in the music. Really beautiful you know, we’re quite-”

“That’s enough, Escalus,” the director barked. “Our last show is in two days. Take this seriously,  _ or else.” _

Mercutio nodded, the same shit-eating grin still on his face as he adjusted the strap of his tenor saxophone. 

“Everyone, take it from the beginning! Run it through, start to finish, and I’ll tell you what needs fixing. Positions!”

The band groaned, Tybalt glaring at Mercutio as they went back to their starting positions. The sun was beating down, and Tybalt had to squint to see the director counting them in over the harsh light. He brought his instrument up to his mouth when the saxophones were cued, and they ran through the first two songs without any problems.

The third song was where things went wrong, however. Sure, the trumpets may have been too loud, and the snare was  _ just _ out of time, but that was not where Tybalt’s concerns lay. He had begun to feel slightly nauseous, and when the song ended, he was out of breath from playing for so long, which never happened to him.

It was far too hot.

They finished the last two songs before getting a water break, and Tybalt all but threw his saxophone down when he got to his stuff. He uncapped his water bottle and took a swig, not noticing Juliet coming up beside him, flute in hand.

“You okay?” she asked. Tybalt started, before looking at her and laughing.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine, Jules. Why’d you ask?”

Before she could answer, the director called them back to the football field. Tybalt grabbed his instrument and slid the strap over his head, walking out to the gaggle that was forming around the director.   
  


“Overall, the routine looks pretty good,” the director said. “However, we still need some touching up on See You Again, so go to your starting positions for set five.”

They nodded, and Tybalt took his position amongst the band, beside Mercutio. The blond looked over at him.

“Uh, Tybalt?”   
  


“What?” he snapped. He was tired, and hot, and had a headache, and he just wanted the damn practise to be over. He didn’t want to have to deal with Mercutio as well.

“You-”

“Capulet! Escalus! What could be so important that you can’t wait to discuss it until after practise!”

Both jumped. Mercutio turned to the band director and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, sir!”

“Focus, you two,” he grumbled. Tybalt nodded, the simple movement causing the world to spin for a second.

The director took his position at the front of the band, and raised his baton. Tybalt brought his saxophone up to his mouth, trying to ignore Mercutio, who was still staring at him, and the dots in the corner of his vision.

He was fine, right?

The director gave them two bars of rest. 

Tybalt just wanted to go home and rest.

Mercutio was still staring at him, so Tybalt glared at him, hoping that the blond would  _ leave him alone. _

The first bar was counted in.

Mercutio’s eyes widened, and he reached out.

“Tybalt!”

The last thing Tybalt saw before blacking out was Mercutio’s worried face standing out amongst the first notes of the song.

* * *

Tybalt came to, being half dragged, half carried across the field by two people, one much taller than him. His saxophone was nowhere to be found, only the strap remaining around his neck. His entire body felt numb, and the dizziness was back, more intense than before. He groaned and leaned into the body of the taller person, who hoisted his arm around their neck more securely.

“It’s okay, Capulet, you’re gonna be fine,” the person said, and Tybalt immediately tried to shove him away, albeit weakly.

“Why you?” he asked, ignoring how weak his own voice sounded. Mercutio rolled his eyes.

“Benny, can you get some water and a granola bar?” The person on Tybalt’s other side, who he could now tell was Benvolio Montague, nodded, gingerly placing Tybalt’s arm down from where it was around his neck. He ran off, clarinet in hand, towards the pile of bags and instrument cases on the opposite end of the bleachers. Mercutio turned to Tybalt.

“Can you walk?”

“What?”

“I- forget it.” Mercutio scooped Tybalt up into a bridal hold and began to run across the field with him. Tybalt let out a small scream.

“What the fuck, put me  _ down!” _

“Nope. Not letting you faint again.”

“I’m  _ fine!” _   
  


Mercutio sighed. “Really, Capulet?  _ Really?  _ Then why did you collapse back there?”   
  


When Tybalt didn’t answer, Mercutio dropped the topic. He reached the bleachers and set Tybalt down, seeing Benvolio coming towards them with a water bottle and packaged snack in hand. He grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap, giving it to Tybalt, who gulped it down gratefully.

“Pace yourself. You don’t wanna throw up,” Mercutio laughed. Tybalt glared at him, hitting his arm with the half empty bottle. Benvolio snorted, before going back to the practise.

People were staring at them, wondering what was going on or what happened, but Tybalt didn’t care about them, only cared about getting rid of the dizziness and numbness that seemed to have overtaken his entire body. He finished the water, reaching to the granola bar and unwrapping it. He took one bite, made a face, and swallowed it.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, pushing the bar into Mercutio’s hand. Mercutio stared at it for a second before passing it back.

“Your blood sugar is low. You need to eat something.”

“Mercutio,” Tybalt said, warning. Mercutio was shocked at the use of his first name, before remembering what they were talking about.

“Tybalt.” He could use the Capulet’s tricks against him. “If you don’t eat it, I’ll feed you.”

Tybalt glared, before grabbing the granola bar and eating it, grimacing. 

They sat on the bleachers like that for a while, watching the practise continue on without them. When Tybalt finished the snack, he leaned on Mercutio’s arm, tired, but also slowly feeling less sick. They sat like that, silent except for the music, when Mercutio spoke.

“Does this kind of thing… happen a lot?”

Tybalt blinked. “Hm?”   
  


“Fainting. Collapsing. Whatever you want to call it.”

Oh.

“Yeah. I’m, uh, prone to heat stroke?”

“Jesus Christ, Tybalt, why didn’t you sit out?” Mercutio sounded so genuinely concerned, and for a second, it warmed Tybalt’s heart.

“Our final show is two days! I can’t just sit out!”

Mercutio snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re probably the only one of the altos who actually knows the routine. If you didn’t come today you would have still done fine. Practise would have sounded a lot worse, though. You’re amazing at playing.”

Tybalt looked down. “You really think I’m that good, huh?”

For it was certainly a weird turn of events: he was sitting on the bleachers of his high school’s football field, leaning on a guy who annoyed the hell out of him and who he kind of hated, listening to that same guy ramble about how good he was at playing the saxophone.

It wasn’t a turn of events he entirely hated.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr!](https://tybalt-exe.tumblr.com/)


End file.
